Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, etc.
A/N: Soo, this is a longer one. It still looks like part 2 will have 32 chapters, so we're four away. Please review! ...This is another of my favorite chapters. Lots of reading between the lines. :) Please review!
Chapter 28: Dinner
Kelly and I spent that night curled up in the guest bed, Joey driving cars near the bottom of the mattress, with me thanking Kelly a thousand times over for being the nosy, intrusively intervening goddess of a woman that I'd always known she was. She grins, and wraps an arm around me, hugging me tightly.
"I don't get it. You and older men... you do know how to pick 'em though; your geezers are never unattractive."
I roll my eyes. "If by 'not unattractive' you mean sexy as hell, then yes, you're right…"
She giggles, and I do too, and then we're laughing so hard that we're wiping tears from our eyes, unable to stop… and then I'm actually crying, and she's clucking her tongue in a motherly fashion and pulling me against her again.
"Oh Sara, he loves you too. I see it in his eyes… You two just need some time. …Don't push for a relationship, at first… settle for what he'll give you; there's no way he'll be satisfied with that, and you guys can progress from there… just let it happen naturally, Sara. Be his friend… he seems like a man who could use a real friend."
And so I nod, and angrily wipe my tears away, vowing to be content with whatever he will offer me, and simply hoping with all that I am that it will be more than the strained internet relationship I had forced upon him when I left. I realize that's unfair, and hypocritical, and yet I can't bring myself to care. I feel bad that it obviously hurt him, but it was better than isolation… I couldn't take not speaking to him at all again.
He had several night lectures, so he didn't get around to coming over for dinner until Tuesday of the following week. I saw him at the convention, and we exchanged awkward and sweet sort of smiles, but we were always on our way to a lecture, and had little time to talk. I wanted to suggest playing hooky again, but Kelly's words rang in my ear. I couldn't force it. I had to be content with whatever he could give me, at first.
And then, Tuesday night was there, Eric was setting up to grill steaks out back, and I was pacing the kitchen while Kelly sat calmly on the counter, happily picking carrots out of the salad beside her to munch on while we waited. The doorbell rang, and I sprinted to the door, but then waited in front of it, not wanting to seem too eager, finally opening it when I heard Kelly's laughter drifting behind me.
I knew I was being silly; I didn't need to be reminded.
He smiles, a little awkwardly, as do I, and I gesture him in. Kelly calls down the stairs from the open kitchen for him to come on up, and we exchange a less awkward grin over my friend's exuberance. I sigh in relief. Kelly is perpetually helpful.
We move up the stairs, into the open kitchen and dining room—the back door is open, and the smell of cooking potatoes is drifting in, along with the sounds of panting—Joey is sitting out on the porch next to a large golden retriever, with his plastic spatulas and plates, "helping" daddy cook supper. Kelly slides down from the counter, smiling and then hugging Gil, who looks surprised but not opposed to the warmth of her gesture.
"Gil, it's so good to see you again. I hope you like steak, we're grilling out. Come on, I'll introduce you to my husband." She knows he likes steak, she asked me before they decided what to cook tonight.
We follow her out onto the porch, and Eric turns, smiling. "Gil, this is Eric. Eric, Gil Grissom."
They shake hands, and Eric hands Gil a beer without a word. Gil takes it with a nod to thank him, and I grin. Men, apparently, need no words.
Kelly too smiles, and turns back to the house to finish her salad. Gil stops her. "Is there anything I can help with?"
She grins. "I've heard you're a pretty good cook, but I'm afraid we've got it under control. Why don't you and Sara sit, have a beer, and play with Joey and Puckett? Oh, Sara, I'll mix you a drink instead, I know you're prissy when it comes to beer." She sticks her tongue out at me when I shoot her a glare, and Gil laughs softly at the pair of us as we both sit in reclining lawn chairs, on either side of the baby and the dog.
Gil looks at me. "Puckett?"
I smile. "Eric's a big baseball fan. Kirby Puckett. …I'm not really sure who he is, truth be told, Kelly just wouldn't let him name the dog 'Kirby'."
He grins, and opens his mouth to speak, but then Joey is climbing into his lap, and I watch as Gil's expression softens. He would be such a gentle, loving father. …I wonder why he never had a family… he'd been in love before me, he'd told me as much… though he had implied it hadn't been the spent-your-whole-life-with-someone kind of love. …I wonder what kind of love he'd felt for me, before I ruined it. …I wonder if he still loved me… if he could ever love me again.
"Hey buddy, are you cooking steaks with daddy?"
"Daddy!" He says happily, pointing behind him at the quiet man beside the grill. We both smile. It was a serene, blissful, almost unreal moment of happiness, and I basked in it.
Eric moved inside for something, meeting my eyes for a moment to make sure I knew he was leaving and that I had Joey under my supervision. I winked at him, and he rolled his eyes. He was very protective of his little boy, even if he wouldn't voice it… he had always been a quiet man, but he was even more so around new people. …It was good that Gil wasn't a social butterfly either. They still understood each other.
"…Kelly is really good for you."
I turn in surprise at the comment, taking in the sight of a serious, respected scientist who was quirky and playful under the lab coat, seated on a floral-cushioned lawn chair with a toddler banging spoons together on his lap and a silly smile on his face. I didn't know whether I'd ever loved him more than in this moment, and my breath catches in my throat.
"W-what…?"
He smiles softly. "Kelly. She's good for you. You… you smile more, around her. And you… seem more confident. Self-assured."
I laugh. "I doubt that… I always feel like I must seem like a shy, awkward shadow behind all the glowing brightness that is Kelly."
He shakes his head. "I can see you thinking that way, but… it isn't true. …It's like… her presence makes you feel safe enough to let go, a little. You don't hold your shoulders so tensely… your eyes don't look around, anticipating some threat, large or small… you laugh."
I swallow hard. "I, uh… I was like that… with you."
He nods, slowly. "You were… in the beginning. Over Christmas you were guarded, most of the time… I think the beginning was the exception to the rule… but Kelly is another exception. You're not afraid, around her."
I bite my lip softly. "…She's the only person in my life whose never left me or… pushed too much."
He averts his eyes. "You talk to her more than you used to…? More than… once or twice a month?"
I nod. "Yeah, she's… she's pretty much the only friend I have. …We're both still busy, with work and all, but… when I moved to Berkeley, I was kind of off-the-radar for a while. …I'm trying not to let myself do that again. …We need each other." Mostly I just needed her. I was afraid of what would happen to me if I didn't have her.
He nods, and I know he understands that a good deal of my need—and my concern over disappearing again—stem from what has happened between us… but neither of us speak of it. It's simply understood. He doesn't speak, so I continue.
"Kelly's mother got really sick when she was about ten… it was just her and her dad, after that. Before she met Eric, we were… just about the only family each other had. I mean, she had her dad, but… there are some things an eighteen year old girl can't tell her dad, you know?
He nods, slowly, looking distracted. I tilt my head. "You okay, Gil?"
"Hmm? No, I'm.. I'm fine."
Eric steps out, smiling at Joey who is now nose-to-nose with Puckett, pointing very close to the patient dog's eyes, and saying slowly and deliberately, "Eyes." The dog licks him, and he giggles like crazy, and Eric turns to the pair of us, speaking to us for the first time since Gil has arrived—"How do you take your steak, Gil?"
Gil had rarely drunk around me, and never heavily. Maybe he was nervous, or just trying to be social, or maybe there was more weighing on his mind than I knew… but he and Eric polished off a six pack between them by the time dinner had finished, and then Kelly offered the men something stronger, since we were already drinking Strawberry Daiquiris—Kelly's favorite.
Joey went to bed shortly after—having been sitting on one of our laps most of the night or chasing Puckett around the kitchen—and then Kelly threw out the idea of a board game or cards.
I laugh and suggest we play Trivial Pursuit in teams, throwing Gil a sly glance. He grins, and it widens further when Kelly lets out an indignant refusal. "Right, and let you two stomp all over us!"
I shake my head. "Eric could get the sports questions… and you'd know entertainment."
She rolls her eyes. "And you guys will just take history, literature, science, and geography… right?"
Gil and I both laugh, and it feels good to laugh with him, rather than just around him. It feels personal… shared.
After dismissing playing drunk scrabble, we break out the monopoly board, and spend the next three hours fighting for second place behind Eric's giant lead—but he's nice, at least. When you can't pay him, he waives the debt for small favors—a kiss from Kelly, Gil letting a whining Puckett out the back door, me mixing his next drink. The problem was that he was so far ahead he really didn't need us to pay him anymore.
I went bankrupt first, and spent the rest of the time trying to talk each of them into or out of property trades, and offering refills until Gil and Kelly were both mortgaging their property to pay each other, or pay chance cards, and we decided to just end it. Eric had won within the first half hour anyway.
I don't think any of us were drunk… but the idea of Gil driving frightened me, and I offered to give him the guest room and take the couch. He argued for the couch, and Kelly—who was probably even less buzzed than the rest of us for once—asked why the two of us couldn't just share a bed. Hadn't we shared one before, she argued? It was certainly big enough for two…
Eric gave her a strange look, and I didn't argue, because I wanted it. God, I wanted it.
I look to Gil—he looks sort of strange… maybe he's had more to drink than I thought he had. He seems slow to think, slow to react, slow to respond… but eventually nods, claiming that it's fine. …Maybe he'd just been having some sort of internal battle… I could understand that.
So we cleared up the kitchen and trudged to our respective bedrooms, Gil and I much more awkwardly than the married couple across the hall from us. When our door had closed, I drew in a deep breath. "Gil, really, I'm… perfectly fine on the couch… I don't want you to be… uncomfortable."
And though the conflict is there in his expression again, he shakes his head. "It's a big bed, Sara. If I get… uncomfortable, I still have plenty of room on my side…"
I nod, somewhat awkwardly, and crawl into the bed fully dressed, sticking very close to my side. I had wanted this, yes, but I hadn't anticipated how strange it would be, nor how uncertain I would feel. I hear him sigh behind me, and the distinct sound of pants being removed and him slipping under the covers in his t-shirt and boxers. He stays on his side, but not on the extreme edge, like me. I glance over at him.
"We're just being silly, Sara. You shouldn't be uncomfortable all night. We're just… sleeping."
So I nod, and slip out of my jeans while still under the covers, letting them fall over the side of the bed to the floor, and then unhook my bra and pull it out through the sleeves of my shirt. I turn the lamp off, and lay down, thinking how awkward this is going to be, and how hard it will be to sleep with him again, when we're not intimate anymore. …How I probably won't be able to sleep at all.
I don't remember him turning his light off a moment later.
I must have been very tired. …The alcohol might have helped.
But I remember having the dream again. I remember being shaken. I remember screaming out loud, and I remember waking up the way I had the night after I'd gone to look for my mother—panting and shaking, crying and covered in sweat, and trying unsuccessfully to move from the bed and force myself to acknowledge reality.
Instead of sheets, this time, it's Gil's embrace which prevents me from rising. He pulls me tight to his chest, and rocks me, and soothes me, and yet I can't stop crying. No matter how hard I try, I can't, but he holds me until the watery, blue-gray light of before-sunrise creeps into the room, and we can see each other more clearly.
I tremble, and look at him, knowing that the fear is still in my eyes. I can feel it there, thick and unyielding. His eyes are soft, sympathetic, and he squeezes me tighter, to give me strength.
I bite my bottom lip, debating… knowing exactly how to clear the images from my mind and make sure I'd sleep peacefully…
I lick my lips, hesitating only a moment, and lean in to kiss him.
He backs his head away, out of my reach, and his eyes are conflicted. "…Sara, you're… emotional…"
"But… I love you. I… would want you… even if I hadn't had a nightmare." I say this as if it ends the discussion, but his eyes tell me it doesn't.
He looks down, but doesn't let go of me—he squeezes me tighter. "Honey, it… it hurts too much."
I look up at him, confused. "It hurts… to be with me?"
He draws in a deep breath. "I told you, Sara, I… I keep seeing… it. I just… can't."
Tears fall slowly down my cheeks again, and he presses my head to his chest, wiping my them away softly. "Come on, honey, just lay here with me... Let's just… get some sleep, okay…?"
I nod, wanting to stay close to him, even though I know I won't sleep. I can't sleep right now.
I didn't remember him pulling the covers over us, or brushing the hair from my face… I didn't remember him drifting to sleep after me and murmuring that he loved me too into my hair. I just remembered deep, dark, contented peace.
